Photo by Philippe Leroyer
The problem with angels is that they have wings. And nowadays they don’t have to be feathery; small tattooed wings are just as ominous. One particular pair ran up to me in Monot and urged me to join them for a drink. The angel attached to them was a vision, as they tend to be, and very obviously intoxicated.
‘Yes! Go!’ screamed my editor through the phone. You don’t argue with angels, or sober editors.
The pub was crowded and loud, and there was chocolate involved. I know this because cake forced its way into my mouth before I had a chance to sit down. The slice persisted, and my breathing privileges would only be restored after I took a bite. It was someone’s birthday apparently, but I could hardly pay any attention to that.
Two hours and many drinks later I’d forgotten why I went to Monot to begin with. Somewhere between her incoherent babble, lingering stares and the chocolate kiss she left on my notebook I was powerless and enthralled. I blame the chocolate.
It may appear innocent enough, but chocolate was once drunk from solid gold single-use goblets and hailed as the drink of the gods. It has not forgotten this.
It slid its way through history, occasionally rearing its ugly head to kill a canine, invent the microwave or fatten up an unsuspecting American. It caused acne then cleared it up, baked muffins, upset the Catholic Church and asserted control over 40% of the world’s almonds and 20% of the world’s peanuts. I would know; I’m one of those peanuts.
All this would have been at least tolerable had Richard Cadbury taken a very cold shower on that dreaded Tuesday afternoon in 1861. But Cadbury didn’t have time for hygiene; he was busy designing the first heart-shaped chocolate box. In seven years another Cadbury nut by the name of John began mass producing this evil in a ribbon. Nothing could stop it now.
From the chocolate feather corset in the New York Chocolate Show – it has its own shows – to the Debailleul chocolate Mercedes A-Class (built to actual scale) in the Brussels Chocolate Passion show, to the Paco Rabanne designer dress in the Paris Chocolate Show, the former drink of the gods has become a shrewd marketing expert. It still makes cakes though, and they sometimes unexpectedly wind up in writers’ mouths.
They also make chocolate angels, and you can bite their wings off.
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You You You are getting married!! Mabrouk 
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